


The Days Before

by Miria_is_typing



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: First Meetings, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Watford Fifth Year, Watford First Year, Watford Fourth Year, Watford Second Year, Watford Seventh Year, Watford Sixth Year, Watford Third Year
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-23 16:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17686856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miria_is_typing/pseuds/Miria_is_typing
Summary: Before the kidnapping, before the Mage, before the relationship, there were the days before. The years that turned all of us into who we are. Not just the four of us, but everyone. These are the little mundane things we did, not important enough to be shouted from the rooftops, but significant enough for us to remember. We all know how it ends. This is how it starts.





	1. Year 1 - The Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Carry On Big Bang 2018-2019. It was a long ride and I want to say thank you to Stintinear (on Tumblr) who drew amazing fanart for this fic and friends of mine for beta reading! 
> 
> I found inspiration from fics like The Watford Diaries by CanadianSnow (ShelbyCelina) and Year by Year by cynosure_phrases. 
> 
> I'm planning on updating every Saturday! Thank you and enjoy reading!

i. Simon

The courtyard is huge. I mean, the campus is bigger than anything I would have imagined. But it’s a little bit of a shame when the courtyard to a school is bigger than any of the homes you’ve ever been to. I think that’s what makes me nervous.

I’m standing on one side of this field alone. Throwing my red ball from hand to hand, I close my eyes. This is all so overwhelming. Just a few days ago, I was lost and alone and living with eleven other children. Now I feel the pull of the crucible like everyone else does. The Mage says that it’s a type of old magic and that whoever I’m paired up with is for a reason.

So I open my eyes. There’s some type of electricity in the air. Everyone is walking off in some sort of direction. I see everyone laughing and playing around. Some are laughing and running about. Others are trying to resist the pull. I even see a group of friends hold on to one another tightly, like they are trying to fool the crucible into making them roommates.

I don't do any of that. Instead, I stand there completely still. I can feel the strands of magic yanking at my body, but for right now I ignore it. I take a couple of deep breaths and stroll to where I’m being guided. I don’t allow myself to have fun, to giggle and run and play. I have to prove that I belong here. Me, with my old, faded clothes and the red ball clenched tightly in my hand. Sooner or later everyone’s eyes will be on me and it will be my responsibility to set an example. I am the chosen one after all. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.

So I walk, being patient. I move through the crowds of new friends and housemates. I long for what they have, but if I can’t I still have the benefit of our room. It’s more spacious than the rest of the rooms and we have a side bathroom in the suite. I hope that we get along great, but it’s still pretty neat, even if we don’t become very close.

After wandering around the courtyard, I see someone coming near me. At first, I just kind of assume that they’re looking for someone else, someone behind me. Then I see their eyes, locked on mine. 

He’s tall for his age. Taller than me at least, but I think the extra height comes from his posture, which is stiff and straight. I get a closer look at the boy while the crowd starts pairing off. He looks like he is trying to resist the pull of the crucible without it seeming obvious. I walk faster, patience be damned. I feel like I need to get to him now because here’s the proof that I do belong here. 

I reach him quickly after that. I see what he’s wearing. It’s a pitch black suit, with so many intricate details in the fabric. It looks like it was tailored to him. I feel a sense of panic for a second. What could he be thinking about me in my faded jeans and a red t-shirt, the only clothing I brought with me. But then I remember that most everyone here was dressed pretty casually too, so I relax. It could just be part of his personality.

Still, I try to fix my posture a little bit to mimic his so I won’t look too out of place. He still looks down at me and I squirm a little. I extend my hand to him. The Crucible won't stop the pulling of magic until we shake hands. I never had any real friends before and I’m not wasting this opportunity for my own roommate to be the first.

We stand there like that for a little while. Me, with my hand, extended out to him and him looking at it like it might transform into a claw if he looks away. “Hi! I’m Simon.” I say, excited again knowing that this is better than any group home I’ve ever been too and that this will be my first real friend. He looks strangely amused at my excitement and speaks. “You’re Snow.” That’s it. No actual introduction, just a confirmation of my name, which I didn’t even know he knew.

“Yep. That’s me!” I smile and lift my hand a little bit higher. It’s getting tired from being propped up in the air. The Magic pulsing around us is getting heavy, and I don’t know if it’s him or me. The Crucible will keep pulling until we shake hands. 

Right before I feel like I am ready to combust from all of the magic pushing down on me, he grabs my hand. I let a sign and smile up at him. “So, what’s your name?” I ask, as he shakes my hand and lets it go. I already feel like we broke a barrier with him just touching me. There’s hope after all.

He raises an eyebrow at me. For some reason, that simple interaction makes me feel small. I ignore my feelings and continue to look him straight in the eye. He huffs and finally speaks. “Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. Just don’t call me Tyrannus.” He speaks slowly and with purpose. His accent sounds rich, and so does the name. It sounds like old English at it’s finest.

I grin before rolling the letters of his name through my head. I frown a little. How am I supposed to be such great friends with someone if I can’t even remember their name two minutes after they say it? “Don’t you have a nickname or something I can call you by?” I regret asking the minute it comes out of my mouth. He smirks down at me and raises an eyebrow again. “It’s honestly not that hard to say. Unless you’re just that thick, huh?”

I drop the smile and cross my arms. I was excited to be here, but the first conversation I’ve had with someone (someone other than the Mage) I get called dense. Maybe I should keep my guard up like in the group homes. I’m too busy sulking in my thoughts that I almost miss him speaking. “Baz. That’s what my other classmates have taken to calling me.” He looks at his watch, taps his foot a couple of times before glancing at me and walking away.

I don’t know where he’s going, but Baz doesn’t respond when I call out to ask him. I simply huff and stand in the courtyard, no doubt looking dumbly at the direction he went. 

While sitting by myself for dinner, eating a nice meal of the roast beef for the first time, I can’t help but think that staying with Baz for eight years is going to test my limits.

\--------

ii. Penelope

I didn’t know what to make of him when we met. He was skinny, for one. Skinnier than what I thought someone could be. I would have assumed he had problems eating if I never saw him during meal times. He had big wide eyes, a deep blue, and bronze hair matted with grease. When everyone was talking about the chosen one, I would think that he looked otherworldly. I imagined he would ooze magic ability, even at the young age we were. 

He is nothing like that

I noticed him struggling with the assignment. We had to shrink a football. I had no problem with it, but Simon was struggling. I don’t think anyone would have expected that from the chosen one, which could be the reason why a lot of the class was staring. Which only made him angry at himself. While he was getting angry, I took a break to get a good look at him. He’s scrawny and scared. He’s taller than me, which isn’t an accomplishment. But he bends down and brings his shoulders up near his ears, making himself seem impossibly small. 

He’s standing right next to me. I can feel his magic building up, even more than himself probably. My mum told me to stay away from him, but he’s just too fascinating. I turn to Simon and try to help him with the assignment. “Your magic is too intense for this spell,” I say, first taking his wand and flipping it before putting it back into his open hand. I notice eyes on me and I look up to see Simon just staring. Trying to continue the conversation, I start speaking again.

“I know you’re Simon Snow. My mum told me you’d be here.” Once I start talking, I keep rambling on. “She says you’re really powerful, probably more powerful than me.” I don’t think that’s true as of this point, but I don’t tell him that. “I’m Penelope Bunce.”

He responds immediately, and it kind of makes me regret trying to help him. But I’m not quitting on him just yet. He looks exceptionally lonely. 

“I didn’t know someone like you could be named Penelope.” He says. Stupidly. I wrinkle my nose at him. “What should ‘someone like me’ be named?” I asked, tempted to put my hand on my hips. There are very few people who look like me in the school, with my light brown skin. I don’t think his comment was supposed to be offensive, I think he’s just… sheltered.

“I don’t know.” The look on his face confirms that he honestly didn’t know. It could have also been my hair that’s throwing him off so much. “Saanvi?” He says at last. I disregard his statement before turning back to his assignment. “Someone like me can be named anything,” I say back, pushing my glasses up on my nose. He apologizes and continues to stare.

“And we can do whatever we want with our hair,” I say flipping my ponytail. “It’s impolite to stare, you know, even at your friends.” I take his hand in mine and point the wand at the football

“Are we friends?” He asks me.,He looks surprised and it’s a little sad. “I’m helping you with your lesson, aren’t I?” I respond and see his head whip to the assignment at hand. His eyes turn wide when he sees I just helped him turn a football the size of a marble. He turns back to me and speaks. “I thought you were helping me because I’m thick.” He says, and I laugh. Everyone’s thick. I’m helping you because I like you.” I reply. 

He looks happy, so I thought now was a good time than ever to figure out more about him. “So, where did you come from?” I ask, turning my attention away from the assignment. He looks at me confused before saying he doesn’t know. I found that strange but didn’t ask why. “My mum said that nobody really knew where you came from. And that you might be dangerous.”  
“Why didn’t you listen to her?” he asked.  
“Because nobody knew where you came from, Simon! And you might be dangerous!” I answer, looking at him like he might be the thickest bloke I’ve met.  
“You have the worst survival instincts.” He says fondly. I roll my eyes.  
“Also, I felt sorry for you,” I said. “You were holding your wand backwards.”  
I later told him that I accidentally turned my hair that colour trying out a new spell. I liked it so much I decided to wear it red for the rest of the first year. I also told him that I wanted to try blue next year. We’ve been fast friends ever since, and I miss him every summer. Especially since I have no clue where he goes or if he’s alright.

\--------

iii. Agatha

Everybody knew his name before I even met him. He’s supposed to be the one who will save the world of mages. Simon Snow is the chosen one. He is the greatest Mage. He will either save the world or destroy us all. Either way, he will end the war.

I think that’s a bunch of bogus.

If the world of mages wanted to end the war so badly, why didn’t they just talk it out like the normals do? Instead of sending goblins and vampires, why can’t they just all sit down somewhere and have a nice little chat? The mages are too busy isolating each other based on family and rank that nothing will ever get done.

Resolving magic disputes with more magic is irrational and more than a little stupid. Still, no one would want to hear my opinion on magick politics anyways. That's why I stick to what I'm good at. Which just so happens to be being pretty and making people look good when I’m with them. People don't expect much to come from me. And that's okay.

I'm not good at voicing my opinion since I'm a little afraid I could get in trouble for it anyway. I’m pretty average at a lot of things, at magic. But I am good at ballet, which helps my magic make sense. It lets me combine something I'm good at with something I'm supposed to be good at. The tensing and release of muscles and grace you’re supposed to have in ballet has swept through my magic and made me good at something else. Something I need to use, something I have to have.

I'm also good at expectations. People look at me, at my mother who isn't very helpful at anything but taking care of others, at my dad who is a good and well-known doctor. And they see their daughter, me, who will marry someone important and take care of them for the rest of my life.

I learned not to argue with fate. I wanted to be a ballerina, somewhere where I could do shows for normals, and have an audience. I wanted people to care about more than my look. I wanted someone to care about my talent. I wanted someone to give me a standing ovation. I didn't want a participation trophy.

Simon was a participation trophy.  
I guess I was kind of one too.

Still, I recognized the way Simon looking at me. It's the same way everyone looks at me. Like I'm untouchable, an angel from beyond here to bless you. My mother said it was my light hair and pale skin. My father said it was my aura.

We were young then. I don't think it was the desired glance. If anything, Simon might have thought that I was a potential friend, since I was never seen avoiding him. But then again, I wasn't actively trying to be around him either. I couldn't stand it at first. Being around him. When we first met, his magic was everywhere, flowing through his pores making us all feel woozy. He makes me feel nauseous.

But it was to be expected that we gravitate towards each other. Different than the pull of the crucible, it's like a sizzling in the air. Others would have been ecstatic about feeling this power all of the time. I was never one for magic though. So we gravitate towards each other because that's what everyone else wanted us to do. 

I don't know if Simon honestly wanted this relationship. I don't know if I wanted this relationship. But I do know that we were simply doing what we thought was best. We thought we were acting out our book of life. That we were end game, the power couple. 

We aren't. I don't want to be magical. And Simon is nothing but magic.


	2. Year 1 - Lost and Found Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the novel, penny specifically mentions how Simon used to carry around a ball with him but stopped later in the year.
> 
> That gave me a little inspiration to write about the things that they lose and find throughout their first year in Watford. This is most likely part 1 of 4 maybe?

Simon

I don’t remember where the ball came from. I don’t know if I had it when they found me, or if I found it and just kept it with me, but that red ball means everything to me.

I’ve had it since I can remember. I carry it around with me all the time. Bouncing it on the floor and on walls. Somehow, it reminded me about the mother I never knew. So I love the thing. Even after all of the years, it looks practically brand new. Same shiny red rubber, same bounce sound. It’s like the toy that stays the same forever. I take it with me everywhere I go. It’s either in my hand, or in my bookbag, or in the drawer connected to the desk in Baz and I’s shared room. So I know that I couldn’t have lost it.

I’m turning up our entire room, spelling it clean, putting things back in there place. It couldn’t have just disappeared. I’m crawling on the floor under my unmade bed, tore apart by panic, when Baz walks through the door. I hear the creak of the hinges and the door opening and closing. Trying to get out from under the bed, I hit my head on the wood frame and groan. Once I finally found a way to shimmy my way out from under the bed, I sit up and see Baz standing in front of me. Perfect posture, a smirk on his face, and a single eyebrow raised. I rub my head and get up from the floor, checking my bookbag again for the ball.

“Snow, what are you doing?” Baz asks, sounding exasperated. I growl and dig further into my bookbag, throwing the loose papers and even my wand across the room near the door. I have to find that ball. Baz huffs, most likely unhappy with not only me not responding, but the mess that the room is in. If he didn’t come in here when he did, I would have spelled the whole room into chaos.

I keep rummaging around every nook and cranny before I give up, knowing it’s not on my side of the room. I get up and look around. My bed is pushed off to the side, the covers a jumbled mess on the mattress. The little dresser on the side of the room is spilling out, clothes hanging from the drawers, bunched up on top. It’s a little poetic, the mess of my room and the clean order of Baz’s side. It’s such a shame that I’m going to ruin that too.

I walk over to Baz’s area. He’s sitting at the desk, been sitting their for god knows how long after i didn’t respond. He got a desk on his side, and before I was a little angry, jealous about it, but I let it go. Baz is definitely use it more than I will anyways. He twitches when I come near, like he could somehow feel me behind him. “Whatever you think you’re going to do, Snow, I suggest not to.” He sneers at me. He’s always sneering at someone, which is usually me, and at first it bothered me, scared me even. But now? I just learned to ignore him.

“Yeah, yeah Baz, I got it.” I say, absentmindely as I walk around the furniture set up on his side. Same bed, same dresser, the bathroom’s on his side though. I start there, since it’s mutual territory, and he’s less likely to bite my head off if I mess it up. I check the medicine cabinet and the shower rack, to no avail. There was nothing under the cabinents. I still looked anyways. The shared vanity had little to no stuff on it. I expected Baz to have more products. 

I walk, or more like tumbled, out of the bathroom to see Baz looking at me strangely from the desk. “What?” I ask, going back to my side of the room and slumping down on my bed. Baz must have casted Everything in it’s Place because the room looks neat and orderly. Somehow that makes me feel angry. I’m always angry at something Baz does.

“Are you looking for something, Snow? He asked, amused at my misfortune. He closes his textbook and turns around in his chair, laying his head on his hands and grinning. “It’s none of your business.” I say and lay down on the bed, flipping over so that I’m facing the window. He laughs and that’s what makes me think. “How do you know I’m missing something anyways?” I turn to look at Baz, who is still grinning at me. He’s simply raises and eyebrow and turns back around. 

Baz has my ball. He took it and threw it somewhere, he hide it from me. He wants me to suffer. 

I get up and walk over to Baz, who tilts his head up a little but is still focused on the sheets of paper on the desk. I grab him by his shoulder and try my hardest to pull him up from the desk. The chair flies backwards and Baz stumbles back. He sneers at me, baring his teeth like an animal. I get ready to punch him but he reminds me before I get to. “Did you forget about the Anathema, chosen one? Or were you just waiting to get expelled?” He ask, though the question isn’t meant for me to anwser. 

“Give it back.” I growl, getting in his face. I can’t punch him, but maybe I can intimidate him to the point where he tells me. Maybe he won’t call my bluff. He just shrugs and grins, holding his hands up. “I have no clue what you are talking about, Snow.” He says and grabs my hand to try and pull me off of him. It won’t work. I learned a lot from being in group homes. Sometimes you just have to hold them down, block their escape. I hold on tighter, twisting his clothes in my hand. Baz doesn’t look afraid, but I know he acts like nothing affects him, even if it does. “Give it back!” I scream, hands starting to shake. Baz flinches, but remains quiet in my hold. I feel like I’m going to cry. That ball was all that I had from my past, all I had from the mother I’ll never get to meet. 

I can’t even see Baz’s face, his figure a blur as my eyes water. I let go of his shirt and stalk off to my bed. I sit there with my head in between my knees and I cry. I don’t care what Baz may think of me at this moment. All I know is that I may have lost any trace of my past that I had. Sad and vulnerable, I lay down and curl up in the bed, closing my eyes.


End file.
